A Sign of Hope
by detective-sweetheart
Summary: ...but it was always there. All I had to do was look hard enough.


A/N: Apparently, IM conversations prompt a lot more than I thought they did, so to The Confused One...thanks. And CI's not mine.

* * *

I had no idea why I had come here. All I knew was that I had left wherever it was that I had been, blinded by any number of emotions, none of which I had yet managed to figure out. I knew that I was still fully dressed, and that it was cold. I pulled my coat closer around me as I stood there, staring off into the distant night, up at the sky, where I was surprised to find that I could see the stars. It was ironic, in a way, a child's sign of hope, when the rest of the world was trying to tell me that there was no hope left…at least, no hope left for New York City. 

My shoes had come off somewhere along the lines, and so had my socks. I could see them from where I stood, even in the darkness. I could see my footprints in the sand as well, leading to where I was. The sand between my toes was cold, made that way by the water that was soaking the bottom of my pants. Ordinarily, I probably would have been annoyed by it, but this time…I wasn't. I couldn't be. The water was of some small comfort in itself, and I reveled in it, though I knew it would only last for a moment, just like everything else.

I wouldn't be going home that night. In fact, I was nowhere near home, or the squad room, or the city. It was the weekend, which I was grateful for; it gave me time. Tomorrow, when morning came, I would make my way back, and I would forget that I had ever been here in the first place. I'd lose myself once more in the chaos that was my family and my work, and once again, I would love it, the same way I did every time I went back. My family, I would always go back to, no matter what happened. My work…It was not uncommon to hear of cops suffering from varying degrees of burnout. So far, I had been lucky. Now, I wondered.

And at the same time, I hoped that that wasn't what was happening to me. I hoped that I would be able to go back, and look my squad in the eye, and lead them out into the proverbial fires that always seemed to be surrounding us. That I would be able to get over this minor crisis of faith and go back to what I loved and what I knew. And even as I thought this, I knew that I would be able to. I wasn't ready to give up yet. There was still hope, no matter what anyone else had to say. Even so, I remained where I was, in the sand, still staring off into the night.

The ocean reflected the sky. It seemed to me right there in that moment that they were as one, that there was nothing to separate them, but I knew that when the sun rose, the differences would be obvious. They always were. There was a difference between darkness and light, between water and fire…between the city and the people who protected it. Yet despite this, there was always something that we could depend upon to make us feel somewhat better, never mind everything else that was going on. I had not come to this place in a long while, but I was here now, because I needed to be.

But only for that fleeting moment. Before I really knew what I was doing, I was walking, up and out of the water, towards where my shoes were. I was sitting down in the sand and putting them back on, allowing my gaze to linger for one last moment on the sight before me. And as I did, I could see the stars slowly disappearing. I did not know how long I had been standing there, but apparently it had been a lot longer than I thought. The sky was lightening over the waters, and I continued to sit, even though my shoes were already on. The sun was rising, and for once, I would have the chance to watch.

So I did. And as the sky started turning colors, I found myself thinking that the rest of the world had no idea what they were talking about. There was still hope left, for both New York City, and for the rest of the world. The fact that something so simple and yet so amazing as a sunrise could still exist despite the darkness that always seemed to be present was a sign that there was still hope, and that there would continue to be hope, no matter what happened.

All I had to do was look hard enough.


End file.
